Brand New
by verisimilitude
Summary: Harry gets a clue over summer vacation and goes gothic. With a snarky twist and underlying selfishness, Harry faces the demons of his life.
1. All Gothed Out

**Title:** Brand New

**Rating:** R – for , NC-17 – for

**Pairings:** Harry/Draco, Harry/OC

**Summary:** Harry gets a clue over summer vacation and goes gothic. With a snarky twist and underlying selfishness, Harry faces the demons of his life.

**Author's Note**: I love reading all the fics that have Harry going gothic, yet none of them are written very good. So I'm writing this one and including things that I normally don't. My Harry is innocent or naïve, he's human. Very very human. So don't flame, because this is how the real world is kiddies.

Harold James Potter was sick of his name, sick of his looks, and basically just sick of everything. All he was doing the summer after his fifth year was mope about the Dursley's, mope about the park, and just in general mope. It really wasn't doing wonders for his disposition or attitude, not to mention his appearance. Harry was looking more decidedly like Snape every day.

That was, basically, the clincher. Harry had walked into the bathroom beside Dudley's room, look into the mirror, and nearly dropped dead. Stilling his beating heart, which had thought for a moment that Snape had been looking back at his from the shiny glass, he gaped at his reflection. Had he washed...in the past week? Month? Harry held up a piece of his stringy, greasy black hair and stared in horror at himself. Right then and there he came to a resolution: he needed a life!

What had he been doing, skulking about the neighborhood in a complete daze, forgetting to bathe, to eat, to maybe even breath some times? How stupid was he?! He wouldn't turn out to be Snape, oh no, never. He needed to get his act together, right now. Except...all his mind drew was a blank.

Schoolwork? Nah. How was that making himself different, improving himself? He had already read all the books anyway, having found all his textbooks sent to him via owl as a pretty false apology by Dumbledore and a gamble to get back in Harry's good graces. Stupid git. The only assignment he had over the summer was for Professor Binn's class, and that was pretty easy. All he had to do was write a twelve inch essay comparing a Muggle in Muggle history to a Witch or Wizard in the Wizarding World's history. He already had both of his picked out, it was fairly easy after all. He knew more about Voldemort than most anyone else knew, some obviously he was the WW choice, but someone who could be compared to him? Hah! Harry remembered Adolph Hitler from his school studies before he'd been sent to Hogwarts, and had heard Dudley and Piers talk about Hitler and say "Sie hiel!" enough to have it imprinted in his head permanently. He liked his choice and had already written around 10 inches.

How else, then? He could go to the local shopping centre, he mused. Hell, it would provide some entertainment that he hadn't thought of in years. There weren't just magical things in the world! There was a variety of fascinating Muggle things to keep him occupied the whole summer. In fact, Harry found himself thinking about converting his galleons into Muggle money so that he could go out and buy some new Muggle clothes and maybe a cd player, a few cds? He found himself warming up to the idea and got out the money box from Gringotts hidden under a plank in his bedroom. He placed his hand on the top of the box and whispered the amount of money he wished to have and that he wanted it converted. A soft glow issued from within and suddenly the box grew very heavy. Harry lifted the lid and stared at the neat little piles of paper money.

Now it was time to go shopping.

Harry picked a time when Dudley was out with his parents, they were all at a boring play or something with Vernon's new boss, suck-ups. It was opportune, so Harry grabbed his money stacks and shoved them at the small of his back, underneath his boxers to hold them there. It was kind of uncomfortable, but he didn't have anywhere else to put them, most of the money stacks already filling his baggy jean pockets.

Harry scuttled out of the house and to the bus stop and for there to the mall. Ha-ha, Dudley and his friends weren't there so he wouldn't have to watch for them terrorizing him.

He meandered about the mall, which was quite huge. Three stories tall, it wasn't the only one in Surrey, but the biggest. There were plenty of store outlets, but most of them were for girlish clothes and such. Harry was getting fairly bored until he noticed that the people in the mall were getting thinner as he got further in. Soon they were wearing strange clothing, and the shop signs and window displays were weirder! Harry stopped dead in his tracks as two boys around his age, one sporting red plaid Capri's with black bondage straps all over and a black mesh shirt and strange jewelry with fire-red hair spiked in a Mohawk and the other one with tight black pants shredded in some places and a black wife beater and short black hair with one strand longer, started kissing passionately right in front of him. Harry stood there, his mouth open wide as he saw TWO BOYS snogging in the middle of the mall. The one with a Mohawk ran his tongue down the other boys chin and nipped his ear causing him to groan and Harry to let out a small eep!

The two boys stopped snogging and turned towards Harry, who was still staring at them. The black haired one grinned. "Hullo, luv. See something you like?"

Now, Harry knew about homosexuals. Of course he did. Weren't Seamus and Dean together? And Vernon always ranted about 'those damn faggots' and Dudley watched porn movies with two girls who fingered each other and fucked each other with strap-ons, but Harry hadn't really seen Dean and Seamus kiss or anything or any other gay people be this _public_. In fact, it was giving him a hard-on, which caused him to stop and rethink the whole situation.

A hard-on. From seeing two very hot but different looking boys snogging. Oh, boy.

The Mohawk boy sniggered and pulled the other one away and they walked past Harry, the black haired one winking at him lasciviously. Harry gulped. He hadn't thought he could get any harder, and the black haired boy had definitely noticed.

He ducked into the nearest store to calm himself down, thinking about someonesomeonesomeone to stave off his being turned on, thinking Snape oh, he has a sexy voice, so smooth… thinking Remus a werewolf, kinky, sex bites… thinking Lucius Malfoy his cane, his raw sexual power, his piercing eyes which led him to Draco Malfoy whom he had never looked at in THAT WAY but now that his eyes were open he did and practically had to bite his lips to keep from moaning as he pictured that mouth that spewed dirty little insults wrapped prettily around his throbbing cock and that pert little ass sticking up in the air…Draco riding a broomstick, Draco riding HIS broomstick, Draco getting punched by Hermione, Draco strapped to a bed, Draco with a cane just like his father's, Draco moaning as Harry thrust the cane in and out in and out of his tight, warm –

"Can I help you?"

The voice was loud in Harry's ear and he jumped back, knocking into a rack of clothing and practically taking it down with him as he landed on the floor, his breathing harsh. The voice that had startled his out of the melee of filthy thoughts giggled girlishly and a small hand with black fingernails reached down towards him.

Harry shook his head and stood up, brushing off his pants. He was almost scared of himself as he remembered how he had thought of all those older men in his life, and Draco…he steeled himself and swore he would never think of Draco, no, MALFOY, that way again. It was wrong, period.

He looked at the person who had talked to him and found himself standing next to a petite blonde haired girl, who looked exactly like everyone else he had been walking by lately, her breasts pushed up by a purple corset and a frilly turquoise ballet skirt covered her lower half, well, from the back you could see the bottom swell of her buttocks. She had on very high-heeled boots with buckles, all the way up to her knees.

"Uh, um, sorry, what did you say?" Harry eyed her, still blushing but trying to be nonchalant.

The girl smiled at him playfully. "I asked you if I could help you, because you obviously do need some help. Honestly! Look at what you're wearing!" She picked a thread off of his over worn and too-large shirt.

Harry looked down. "What's wrong with it?" He was puzzled. Sure, Dudley's clothes were a tad too big, but they were at least semi-normal looking. But then he remembered that he was here to look better. What could a few new articles of clothes hurt?

The girl scoffed, looking him up and down.

Harry turned red. "Eh, uh, never mind. Yeah, they are pretty bad. But, I don't know how to shop or what to get…" he trailed off, hoping the girl would volunteer her fashion expertise.

She smiled broadly. "Sure, sweet. Come over here. I've got some great things in mind for you already."

Harry followed her with trepidation.

Six hours later Harry left the mall loaded with bags upon bags of clothes and other articles. And suffice it to say, he had a new look. Harry wasn't sure what to make of his hair, which was very short in the back and spiked up, and slanted to very long in the front. It kept getting into his eyes, and he was getting into the habit of flipping it back with a head motion. However, it seemed to be actually tame now, whatever that means with the style he currently had. It was probably a minus.

He now had make-up on too, a dark black eyeliner and green and silver glitter around his eyes. His lips had a pink gloss on them, which tasted kind of strawberry-ish when he licked his lips. Harry was still trying to decide whether that was good or bad. He also had a tongue ring, a nose ring, a ring in his left eyebrow, gages, and two silver hoops on both the tops of his ears.

His torso was covered with a black tight silk shirt with mesh over top and long sleeves. A long vest was overtopping that, dragging down to the floor, adorned with buckles and safety pins.

He had on tight black pants with bondage straps criss-crossing each other. On his feet were large combat boots.

In his bags were a lot more clothes like that, but it was what was underneath his clothes that was also important. He had gotten a phoenix stretching across his shoulder blades, a paw on his right hipbone RIP Sirius, and a snake twining around his left bicep. He'd been tempted to get the Dark Mark tattooed on his wrist as a final nod in Voldemort's direction, making fun of his inability to crush him, but Harry decided against it.

He had also made some new friends. One being the girl who had first talked to him, Jae. And another girl and boy: Tori and Jacoby. Tori was a slightly plump and quiet girl, but once you got her out of her shell she was a maelstrom of energy and excitement. Jacoby, on the other hand, was always joking around and cracking on everyone. His sarcastic comments made Harry grin any time of the day, and also vaguely reminded him of Dra—Malfoy. Malfoy.

So Harry was now walking to the Dursleys, because he didn't think of it as home, and was contemplating how they were going to act when they saw him now.

Harry had to stop himself before he actually cackled evilly out loud. _Shudder._

A/N: Review, lovelies! More is on the way if you liked that. Do you want it more…hardcore? Or what? Tell me!


	2. Owl Me

**Author's Note:** Holy...I never thought I get that many reviews. Really, it was just an experiment. OK, so now I'm continuing it, because all you reviewers are scaring me...:hands out cookies as apology for not updating sooner:

Link for comments to your reviews at bottom...

It had been hard and easy running away. The easy part was deciding that he would, the hard part was where he was going to go and what he would tell everyone else. It had been two weeks since he'd met his new friends, and he finally knew what it was like to just be himself. He didn't have to be afraid that if he did something wrong everyone would condemn him. He felt free and alive.

Ron and Hermione hadn't sent him any letters, which Harry sort of expected. Only Remus did, and they were short and filled with not much information. When Harry was writing a curt and sarcastic reply one day he stopped and decided, hey, fuck it. He wouldn't let anyone rule his life from now on. He would turn 16 on his birthday soon, and then he would be legally an adult. And himself.

He couldn't run away to the life he used to know, it would just be a burden on him and others, not that he cared, really. Voldemort was his and his alone to defeat, not theirs. Never theirs.

So Harry moved in with Jacoby, the boy who had at first reminded him of Malfoy, but who now was his anchor.

Harry sat at the worn table in Jacoby and his small apartment, crouched over a slightly crumpled bit of sketch paper and scribbling furiously. Once in a while, he stopped and squinted at it, sometimes studying the lines of black charcoal for several minute intervals. He finally finished late into the night and sat straight up, his silver phoenix medallion thudding heavily against his chest. He tilted his head questioningly and some of his shaggy shoulder-length hair escaped his hastily throw back ponytail into his eye's view. He ignored it and studied the picture. It was a basilisk, wrapped menacingly yet seductively around a bejeweled broad sword, much like Godric Gryffindor's yet differing in small ways.

Harry let out a heavy sigh and set down the small charcoal piece then wiped his blackened fingers on his, luckily, black tshirt. He tucked his drawing into the worn and doodled-on manila envelope sitting on the floor with a faint satisfied air. It was already crammed with other sketches, some with torn and bent edges.

Harry stood up witha groan and cracked his backed, afterards ambling toward the fridge, tired and hungry. It had to be at least four or five in the morning, because he couldn't see the blue glow from underneath the bedroom door. That would indicate that Jacoby was still up and playing with his computer. Jacoby was usually on his "baby" until three, but would get sick sometimes of waiting up for Harry to come to bed.

Harry grabbed a leftover box of chinese and scarfed it down, happy it had not acquired the down of mold that usually accompanied anything in the fridge. He threw away the empty and soggy box when he was done and slipped off his clothes in the bedroom and slid underneath the covers. They were warm from Jacoby and Harry drew in a deep breath of Jacoby's smell, somewhere between cedar and pine, and burrowed deep into the covers and against his lover's back.

Jacoby stirred and murmured. "Harry?"

"Shh, love. I'm just going to bed."

He groaned. "Oh. I thought something was wrong."

"No," Harry smiled faintly at Jacoby's worry. There was nothing more forthcoming from his lover, so Harry thought he had fallen back asleep and closed his eyes.

When Harry woke up, somehow he knew that something was different. Slowly, sounds reached him from outside the room and he made out the sounds of Jacoby yelling and the screeching of an owl. An owl?

Harry jumped out of bed, cursing. How had an owl found him? He had placed untraceable spells on himself, so it was almost impossible. (Wandless magic can be done, witness Harry before he knew he was a wizard. You just had to apply yourself more, and Harry had read up during the Summer. He isn't a complete wanker, you know.)

Harry raced out to the small room and saw Jacoby beating away a rather large owl he recognized as being an official Hogwarts owl, which flew start-of-term letters to all students. Harry slightly relaxed because he knew the owl hadn't tracked him. Now to try to get the letter the owl was gripping possessively and distract Jacoby.

"Jae!" (Jacoby's nickname. Come on, you expect someone to yell 'Jacoby' in the throes of passion? Hah! That'd be like the tongue twister from hell. It would probably end up like this: 'Chi! cka! be!' or something...hmmm...)

Jacoby turned around. "Harry, help me with this damn thing! It just started attacking me once I opened the front door," he yelled.

Harry went over carefully, in case the owl didn't recognize him in it's fury. But, the owl immediately calmed down once he was in sight and hooted in a welcoming tone.

Jacoby stood there with a shocked look on his face, panting heavily. He looked at Harry questioningly. Harry just shrugged sheepishly.

The owl glided over to Harry's arm as he held it out, and Harry snatched the letter quickly. The owl, obviously not going to suffer any more at the hands of any Muggles, even if for a treat, hooted once more and flew out the still open door.

Harry tucked the letter in his pocket and looked at Jacoby, who was staring at Harry as if he had two heads.

"What was that?" Jacoby asked.

Harry tried the innocent approach. "What was what?"

Jacoby gritted his teeth in sudden anger. "Fuck you, you wanker! You know what I'm talking about! That bloody letter you took from that scrazed owl that seemed to know who you were!"

Harry just stood there. He didn't know what to say. What do you say? Would you tell a Muggle who you were? And if you really valued their friendship, and company, would you risk that to tell them what they might not even believe?

Jacoby took the silence as incriminating. "I think we should start seeing other people."

Harry stood there a moment in shock as it sunk in. "What!"

Jacoby tried to calm him down. "Listen, it's not you. It's just that, well, I've been thinking. You seem to hide so much from me. I don't know where you were born, not really, or where you've been to school. And that owl and the letter, what the fuck was that? You don't trust me! Hell, I don't even know if you're really 20 or not!"

Harry blinked at the realization that all his lies for a new beginning had back-fired on him. Jacoby had been wonderful, great even, but Harry couldn't bring himself to tell Jacoby that he was 16, a wizard, and that the fate of the world rested in his hands. He had only lied about his age that day in the store, a lifetime ago, because he felt older than he really was, and didn't want to say he was 16, frankly.

Harry picked up his coat, a long black trenchcoat, and turned to leave. (Harry could summon his wand and clothes later, when it wouldn't ruin his dramatic exit.)

"Harry, Harry wait!" Jacoby yelled after him.

Harry turned around in anger. "What? What more, Jae? Do you want me to pour out my life's history? Do you want me to tell you how my parents were killed in front of my eyes, and my godfather, and a fellow schoolmate? And that the murderer is after me right now? Do you want me to tell you that - that -" Harry couldn't continue because tears were running down his face.

"Ri...Oh, gods, why didn't you tell me?" Jacoby gasped out as he enveloped Harry in his arms. Harry flinched away.

"Because, Jae, I DON'T TRUST YOU!" He yelled.

Jacoby let go. "What?" His eyes held a betrayed look.

"I don't..." Harry whispered. "I don't trust that you might tell someone, and...he'll kill you too."

DUN DUN DUN!

NEXT CHAPTER: Where will Harry go now? What will he do about that letter? Will he go back to Hogwarts?

Just take the spaces out:)

http: www .geocities. com/ asherfrost /reviews1. htm


End file.
